Together for the Gospel 2008 was a great experience, one of the highlights of, oh, the last several years. But, as most of us know, high points are often followed by depressing lows. Such has been the case with me.

Arriving home after a grueling but exhilarating week of fellowship and fun, giddy with excitement and fairly bursting with experiences to share with my dear readers, I began posting. I posted pictures. Then the comments came rolling in. Several readers who had been at the conference wrote in praise of my wife, who was surely deserving, but were rather less complimentary of yours truly. (One fine fellow said I looked like an Oxford professor, which I think was a compliment, but then I’ve never seen an Oxford professor, so I don’t know.) While she was described with such adjectives as “terrific,” “wonderful,” and “lovely,” I was pretty much ignored — at least until one character who shall remain nameless called me “weirdo,” and his progenitor, who shall remain hairless, besmerched my necktie. I wonder: does he even know how to tie a tie? I’ll bet he wears clip-ons. Sorry, I’m wandering.

Anyway, you can probably understand, then, why my self-esteem might have been trampled on . . . that is, might on have been trampled . . . or something like that. (On top of it all, I’m still struggling with prepositions.)

Then, finally, one kind lady — with impeccable taste — said I was a “sharp dressed handsome fellow.” I perked up. My wife said she was “just being polite,” but I know better. Yes I do. I do so! I read it again: sharp dressed handsome fellow. And again: sharp dressed handsome fellow sharp dressed handsome fellow sharp dressed handsome fellow. ZZ Top began playing in my head. Da-dum da-daah, da-da-dum-daah, da-da-dum . . . Yeah, that’s it, you know what I mean . . . They come runnin’ just as fast as they can . . . What? Oh, sorry, I was daydreaming again.

Well, that was only the beginning. While it’s nice to be admired superficially, we all want recognition that is more than skin deep. We want to be recognized for our character and intellect, don’t we? Mine was coming. My blue funk was finally and completely dispelled when, on his very own blog, no less a scholar than Dr. Michael A. G. Haykin, a man with two — two! — middle initials, called me “brilliant.” Brilliant brilliant brilliant . . . So there. I guess my terrific, wonderful, lovely wife is lucky to have me.